


Useless

by paintedbutton



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, fallen!cas, kind of an after-finale tag-on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-05-16
Packaged: 2017-12-12 01:40:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paintedbutton/pseuds/paintedbutton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the angels are falling, Castiel is human and he doesn't see what Dean might need him for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Useless

**Author's Note:**

> Because I have to write things when my emotions are on a rollercoaster, so I wrote Cas and Dean, as usual.

They’re falling. Thousands of angels plummeting from the heaven above him and it’s Castiel’s fault. Desperately he clutches the coat around him, shivering in the dark both from the cold and the overwhelming feeling of humanity crashing over him like a wave. He needs to find a phone, he needs to call Dean and maybe they can stop this, or undo it, this mistake Castiel made. Dean has always been better at these things than he is.

 

It takes him a while to find a road, disoriented as he is, and even longer to find any sign of civilization by that road, a small roadside diner whose hostess kindly lets him borrow the phone (she does look at him strangely when he asks her where he is but Castiel pays it no mind). Humanity is already pressing down on him and it feels strange, like a faded memory. He’s been almost-human before but he barely remembers the more mundane needs of his body over all that transpired at that time. When the first question Dean asks when he answers is “You okay?” Castiel doesn’t know what to reply.

 

 

They don’t say much during the drive back to the bunker, even less until they’re standing over Sam’s prone form lying on his bed, eyes closed, breathing even.

“I’m sorry, Dean, I don’t know what’s wrong with him,” Castiel says and it feels like a punch to the gut to admit his own uselessness, “I can’t help, I … I don’t …” His breathing is heavier than it should be, close to hyperventilating he distantly realizes, and he can’t seem to stop it. He’s human now, his grace ripped away from him to fuel a spell that should never have been cast. He can’t help, he can’t heal, _he’s useless_. Dean grabbing his arm and dragging him into the hallway barely registers until there’s the press of both his hands against Castiel’s shoulders and Dean is ducking his head to make eye-contact.

“Hey, hey, _look at me_. It’s okay, we’ll figure it out.” _But how_ , he wants to ask. How can he do anything when every time he tries to right his wrongs he somehow makes it worse, when he’s human now? Something must show on his face because Dean breathes out “Fuck” and then he’s enveloped in the safety of warm arms and he’s clutching desperately at the back of Dean’s shirt because he’s human now and for once he can be weak in the face of his desires. He doesn’t cry but it’s a near thing.

 

 

“You do know that I don’t care jack-squat about your powers, right?” The words are whispered in the dark into the space between them. Perhaps Castiel is afraid of sleeping alone. And, no, he doesn’t know. His powers had been what made him useful, they let him help. It’s too dark to see but Dean just seems to know what he is thinking. “You fucking idiot. How many times do I have to say it?! I need _you_. Not your goddamn powers or your goddamn blade, I _need_ my best friend.”

“Oh.” He’d never thought … Dean draws him in with a hand to the back of his neck, keeps it there and rests their foreheads together. It feels strange, their breaths mingling between them, Castiel’s stomach dropping.

“We’ll find a way to sort out this mess, I promise, but you gotta be with me for this. No more disappearing or lies or any of that bullshit, got it?”

“Of course.” The words come easy because he knows he needs Dean, too, maybe more than he yearns for his grace.

“Good, now go to sleep.”

 

He wakes up the following morning unable to discern where Dean ends and he begins. The angels have fallen due to Metatron’s petty wish for revenge, Sam is very much not okay and hell is not closed, but just for a moment he lets himself feel content. Because if there is anything he ever believed in it is Dean Winchester. _We’ll find a way._


End file.
